Speccie This be the Reverse
 

Bill Greenwell's short story won the fiver, Chris O'Carroll's won money and Bazza was an unlucky hon mensh.

I am sure Poetry Review ran this Larkin Comp yonks ago. What is more, I won it. But I haven't got what I won with. So back to the drawing board.

NO. 2730: This be the reverse
You are invited to supply a refutation in verse of Philip Larkin’s assertion ‘They fuck you up, your mum and dad’ (16 lines maximum). It is up to you whether or not you write it in the style of Larkin. Please email entries, where possible, to email lucy@spectator.co.uk. by midday on 11 January.

I had a losing Speccie entry in 2010 that riffed on the Larkin, but it doesn't quite fit the assignment. I might sub it anyway:

"To Be, Or Not To Be"

They fuck your mum, they kill your dad,
If what the ghost declared is true.
To be, or not to be? Both bad,
So what's a boy like me to do?

To think about my uncle's deed
Sure makes my Danish blue blood boil!
If it were up to me, he'd bleed,
He'd shuffle off his mortal coil.

Yet maybe I should just give in
And stick my crown up on the shelf?
The deck is stacked. I cannot win.
I wonder, should I kill myself?

I had a sambi/bambi rhyme in the last stanza but I found that nobody except our family calls sandwichs 'sambies' The term is 'sarnies'. So there was a good idea out of the window. The fifth line could run 'They give you oodles of advice'. Is that better?


This Be the Reverse

They buck you up, your mum and dad.
Don't think they're simply dry old sticks.
When you feel put upon or sad
You'll find they act like utter bricks.

They give you bags of free advice,
Shed-loads of really useful stuff,
And not just once or even twice,
Since once or twice is not enough.

They bring you love. They bring you joy.
They even pay your parking fines.
And that's why every girl and boy
Should treat them like the finest wines.

They tuck you up, your ma and pa,
They bring you cocoa by the mugful.
They make you feel that you're a star,
And cute and cuddlesome and hugful.

That's great, John.

I'd leave L5 as you have it, as 'oodles' and 'shedloads' are too similar to have both.
Could the last stanza go something like:

They tuck you up, your ma and pa,
With lovely cocoa in large mugs.
They make you feel that you're a star,
So give them thanks, and lots of hugs.

It cuts out one 'They' (not that that's a problem) but I think it ought to round off like the penultimate stanza does, exhorting the offspring to be bloody grateful! ;)
Just a thought.

Jayne

They're always there, your mum and dad,
To help you out through thick and thin,
To cheer you up when you feel sad,
To turn your frown into a grin.

And they were cheered up in their day
By mums and dads they called their own.
You wish that you could find a way
To thank them? Why not try the phone?

Just ring them up, and when you do,
Exclaim that they're your sun and moon,
And make their day by saying you
Will give them lots of grandkids soon.

OK, Jayne. I agree. That last stanza isn't totally satisfactory. I can mend it a bit.

They tuck you up.your ma and pa,
And bring you cocoa by the mugful.
They make you feel a superstar,
Sweet, sexy, cuddlesome and hugful.

This possibly suits girls best, but lots of boys want to be sexy and cuddlesome. And aren't, alas.

They tuck you in, your mum and dad
Whenever evil is abuzz,
The bestest ones you've ever had
Who give you kisses just because.

They are the sempiternal wheel
That moves against all crooks and cronies.
They give you cake for every meal
And buy you cottages and ponies.

You know that they had parents too
With children to make better, a
Chain of parents who had parents who
Had parents too, etcetera.

This Be The Reverse

There's nothing like a mum and dad. You know that this is true!
They 'fuck you up', you're telling me? Explain this, please. Says who?
Philip Larkin? Maybe he was fucked up, I will grant you.
But just because he had no children, tell me, friend, why can't you?
A fucked up man gives bad advice, and you think it's worth following?
How thirsty you must be to think his Kool Aid is worth swallowing!
As a poet, he was tops, I guess, though rather catty.
But who should you put faith in? Philip Larkin, or your daddy?
Have children! It's a challenge, but you're up to it. I know it.
The fucked-up thing, I tell you, is to listen to a poet.

Withdrawn it

You fuck them up, your mum and dad.
They were quite nice, till they had you.
You make them think of faults they had
And see their failings born anew.

But you’ll be fucked up in your turn*
When you decide to have a kid,
Shall half the time spout pieties,
While half in thrall to darkest id.

Child hands misery to parent.
It thickens like an arctic shelf,
Be chaste, a lone librarian
And do not reproduce yourself.

alternate:

But you'll be fucked up in your turn
When you decide to have a child,
Who half the time is soppy sweet,
And half intent to drive you wild.

or

And half obnoxious, rude, and wild.